Nobody Knows Me At All
by giveyourimmortalitytome
Summary: Nobody could have predicted that Cam would do what he did- but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. "Campbell Saunders didn't text. He wasn't a texter... He only texted when he had something to say." More to come!


_Ah, what can you do? There's nobody like you. Nobody knows me at all._

- The Weepies

Katie Matlin had sworn off boys. For, like, the eighth time this school year- but whatever. The Jake thing and the Darrin thing and the Jake-finding-out-about-Darrin thing were so embarrassing and recent and terrible that she'd reverted to her favorite old standby: pledging to focus on school, and friends, and shit. All she ever needed were Marisol and Maya and girl power anthems in convertibles- boys were a dumb distraction that inevitably ended in heartbreak.

Exhibit A: Maya, currently holed up in her room, probably crying, dramatically playing her cello, not letting anyone in. Katie only knew something had gone wrong with Cam, no details, so she'd tried to order a pizza and knock on Maya's door and crack a joke about jocks, but Maya had only increased the ferocity of her cello-playing in response. Which wasn't the most mature reaction, but whatever. Maybe Katie should have kept her mouth shut.

Katie was polishing off the pizza mostly by herself when the doorbell rang- and it was Cam. Katie stared at him, slack-jawed, eyes hard. You hurt her little sister, you die. Those were the rules.

"Cam?"

"Oh, uh, hi, Katie. Is Maya home?"

"She's upstairs with her cello. Big surprise..."

"Oh. Ha. Um. Can I talk to her?"

"I'm going to be straight with you, Cam," she said through mouthfuls of pizza. "I don't know what happened, but I know she's pissed. Am I being a terrible older sister if I let you in?"

"No. No! I mean – you can do whatever you want – but I made a mistake. I need Maya to know that. I didn't mean it. I can – I will – do better." His big blue eyes were peeping over the top of that stupid fucking bouquet – Katie wasn't one who tended towards random acts of kindness, but how could you not feel for the kid? When she stepped aside, his grinned from ear to ear in relief.

"Sure, alright. I'll go grab her. Pizza? There's tons."

"Um, no thank you—" But as he stepped in, Katie rolled her eyes and gestured towards the box on the counter.

"Cam! You're a hockey prodigy, and you weigh eighty-five pounds! Eat some fucking pizza!"

Cam was smiling as he set the bouquet down, and made his way towards the food. Looking back- the Matlins welcomed Cam in, every time. They could have given him a real home in Toronto, if he'd let them. Goddammit.

Katie knocked until Maya grunted, "I'm practicing!" She opened the door anyway, met with Maya's skeptically raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Cam's here. With a giant fucking bouquet of flowers."

Maya scoffed. "Tell him to go away."

"They're roses, Maya. They probably cost over fifty dollars."

"So? Just because he bought me something, I have to talk to him? You're the worst feminist ever."

"Just talk to him," Katie groaned. "Five minutes. He's a good kid."

"He kneed Zig in the eye today. The eye! Over nothing!"

"He's been taught that aggression is the only real way to express himself. It's a wonder he's not more fucked up."

Maya stood up. Katie didn't move. The sisters glared at each other.

"Why are you defending him?" Maya asked, eyes narrowed, resolve weakening. "You hate everything! What makes Cam different?"

"You really like him. He really likes you. That's rare."

"Why did you let him in? You knew-"

"It's not like you were eating the pizza I bought for you," Katie shot back. Maya leapt up from her chair, bow dropping to the floor, making a big show about being pissed to save face.

"Fine! Five minutes! That's all."

Katie grinned and let her sister storm past her. She'd spend the next few hours doing homework in her room, neatening up the basement- anything to keep her away from the living room, where Maya and Cam remained for the rest of the night. She didn't know what Cam had said, but it had worked - and, secretly, even though she'd sworn off boys, Katie was pleased. Cam was a three-foot-tall hockey-obsessed weirdo, but, she was pretty sure: he was one of the good ones.

And he'd given her sister a really great, adorable, lovely night- that's what mattered.

It was also the last night anything was going to be normal, but there was no way Katie could have known that.

Zig Novak would feel like an asshole for the rest of his life, probably. He hadn't been thinking- he never did. He just kept thinking about Maya and how blonde her hair was and how pretty her smile was, and how much easier it felt to be alive whenever she was around-stupid. It was all so fucking stupid. She was with Cam, had repeatedly and blatantly said she liked Cam more, Zig knew that. He knew that, and that's what sucked.

So when he saw Cam with his two fucking happy meals and his stupid grin, he stepped in, stepped all over him, without even thinking. Because Zig never thought. That was the goddamn problem. Cam had won- that was the worst part. That was why Zig said it: "If you cared about her, at all, you'd get out of her life. Forever."

It wasn't true. That was the worst fucking part! It wasn't true. But Cam was so stupid and depressed and whatever and believed it. How was Zig supposed to know that this one random insult was going to mean that much?! He said worse shit to Damian's face every day and Damian hadn't fucking killed himself yet.

It would have just been a normal stupid fight between two fifteen-year-olds idiots if Cam hadn't killed himself the next morning. But he had, and as far as Zig knew, he was the last person to say any words to him. And it had been those words. So it was Zig's fault, essentially. Sure, Cam was fucked up, had clearly been fucked up for a long time- but Zig said "You are a psycho" to his face, and then Cam killed himself.

It was Zig's fault. Directly. Completely. No matter what any guidance counselor said to try and comfort him- it was a fact. No use fighting it, really. There was a direct line between what he'd done and a dead body in the Degrassi greenhouse. That was just something he was going to have to live with.

Campebell Saunders didn't text. Cam wasn't a texter. He never sent random smiley faces or inane greetings. His parents couldn't afford a plan that allotted unlimited messages, and he knew it. His texts had purpose. He only sent one when he had something to say.

And this just might have been the most important one of his life. He agonized over it. He retyped it fifty times. He treated it clinically, distantly, like a paper on Catcher in the Rye or whatever- rereading it over and over again, looking for grammar mistakes or gaps in meaning or a lack of clarity. He wanted it to be right. He wanted it to be perfect. On some deep, tragic, terrible level, he knew it would be the last one.

"I'm not coming. Sorry. It's over."

He didn't cry when he pressed, "Send." He didn't cry at all. He'd already given up, already moved on- Zig was right. He was doing the right thing. Maya would be better off without him. Loving him was a mistake, a burden. He'd only ruin it, like he ruined everything.

Like everything ruined him.

Cam sent that text from the Degrassi greenhouse. He turned his phone off right after, because if Maya responded, he might change his mind- and he didn't want that.

Cam was doing the world a favor. That's what he told himself.

That's what he genuinely believed, and that was the saddest part.


End file.
